Putting out Fire with Gasoline
by thisisnotforyou
Summary: Same games, different players. Lessons are learned and hearts broken. COMPLETED.
1. It's Raining Visitors?

Charlie Warner needed a cigarette. After the fight she and Finn had just had, she thought she deserved it. She stepped out on the front porch, lighting a smoke and watching the falling rain. Why had she been so foolish to think that Finn was ready for this news? They were just about to get married and move to New York for Christ sake. Now this bombshell she had dropped changed everything, and not necessarily for the better.

The tears from earlier started to slide down her cheeks again, but Charlie pushed them away. The rain was getting heavier when she saw a couple of figures coming from the dock. 'Who has the balls to sail over here in this rain?' she thought as they waved her way. Charlie walked over to the gate to let them in, throwing her soggy cigarette to the pavement. Both of the people were wearing yellow raincoats, a smart idea in this mess.

"Hi ma'am," One of them, a male, said loudly over the rain. The other, who was also a man smiled shyly.

"Hello. How can I help you?" Charlie mustered a sort of half smile.

"You're Charlotte Warner, right?" She nodded. "I'm Paul and this here is Tub-Peter," He gestured to his friend. "We're staying with the Nyes. Mrs. Nye sent us over for some eggs, she ran out while baking a cake. Could we perhaps borrow some?"

"Yeah, of course," Charlie unlocked the gate and the boys stepped in, following her up the driveway to the front door. "Why didn't Angie or Nick come? If you're their guests, you should be relaxing. Not sailing a mile in this shitty weather," She scoffed.

"Well Angie's got other guests to entertain. And Nick, Mr. Nye, he couldn't come this weekend because of a business conference," Peter explained.

That was funny, Charlie had seen Nick yesterday. He was the first person she told. But she dismissed the part of her sensing someone funny and led them inside.

"Excuse the mess," She said as they took off their white, some how completely spotless tennis shoes. "Finn, my fiancé, and I have had a rough day. Unpacking and putting everything back in their places, you know how it is."

"We completely understand." Paul still smiled that charming but sort of creepy smile.

"Who's there?" Finn peaked his scruffy, brown haired face into the entry way.

"This is Paul and Peter, they're staying with Nick and Angie. Or I guess just Angie…"

"Nice to meet you sir," Both poncho clad men waved.

"You too," Finn disappeared again.

"Anyways, you can give me your jackets and I'll put them to dry." Charlie held out her hand.

"You really don't have to-" Peter started.

"I insist." She smiled.

They both complied and took off their jackets. Charlie got a better look at them. They were both blonde, Peter's hair was a bit shaggier and darker than Paul who had his neatly cropped mid neck. Peter was slightly thicker than Paul, but not fat. And Paul had these striking blue eyes. But the most bizarre thing was that they were both dressed completely in white from their shorts, polo shirts and golfing gloves. They looked near perfect. But soon she'd find that this was not the case at all.


	2. Let's Make a Deal!

"I better be getting you those eggs now, eh?" Charlie lead Peter and Paul into the kitchen.

"Oh, we're not in a rush, ma'am. Take your time." Peter smiled politely.

She ignored that and got the egg carton out from the refrigerator, "How many did ya say you need?"

"Four, please."

"One, two, three, four. Here you go!" Charlie placed them gently in Paul's gloved hand.

"Thank you so much, Miss Warner. Mrs. Nye will be so grateful," Paul grinned.

"Anytime, guys, I'll just go get your jackets and send you on your way!" She went to the laundry room where she had put their raincoats in the dryer. She made sure they weren't wrinkled and wet whatsoever. Although now that she thought about it, it was kind of a waste since they'd just be getting wet sailing back anyways.

When she came to the front entry with their coats, the men weren't there.

"Peter? Paul? Hello?" She hollered.

"We're in the den, Miss Warner!" Paul's voice called back.

"What are you doing in here? And don't call me Miss Warner, that makes me feel old. Call me Charlie, I'm only twenty five and couldn't be that much older than you two-" She stopped dead in her tracks when she reached the den. They had bound and gagged Finn.

She dropped the coats, "What the fuck is-what the hell-what are you doing?"

Muffled screaming came from Finn on the sofa, she headed to help him when Paul blocked her with the baseball bat, "There's no need to use such language, Charlotte. We haven't been anything but polite towards you and expect the same if you want this to work out as nicely as possible.'

"Why should I be polite when you've tied up my boyfriend?" She put her hands on her hips. "Can you please stop this nonse-OW!" Peter shoved her on top of Finn with the baseball bat. "I'm going to call the police if you don't just take the eggs and leave."

"With what?" Laughed Paul, holding up both her and Finn's cell phones. "These?"

"Give me my phone, you asshole!" Charlie was just plain irritated by this point.

Paul placed both phones on the ground and stepped on them, grinding the remainders into the wooden floor, "Oops, you want it now?"

Peter laughed, "Hehe, good one Butthead."

"Thank you, Beavis."

"This isn't funny, you fucking pricks!" Charlie tried to stand up but was jabbed in the stomach by Peter again.

"Oh, but it is," Paul smiled. "Hey Tom, take the tape off Finn here would you?"

Peter ripped the duct tape covering Finn's mouth and Finn yelped, "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"What the hell is right with us?" Peter mumbled and Paul chuckled.

"So do you think we should start the bet now, Tubby?" Paul looked at his watch which was also white.

"Yes, let's!" Peter clapped his hands gleefully.

"Don't get flamboyant there, Beavis. Save that for the clubs." Paul rolled his eyes and earned a glare from Peter.

"What fucking bet are you talking about?" Finn spat, a mixture of tears and sweat running down his face.

"Let's bet that in twelve hours-it's nine forty-five now-so let's say ten tomorrow morning that you two will have, shall we say, kicked the bucket."

"What!" Charlie squealed.

"You bet that by this time tomorrow morning you'll be alive and we bet that you'll be pushing daisies."


	3. Let The Games Begin!

**Oh my God, it's been so long since I've touched this story. Now this chapter (or installment, what have you) is extremely short.**

**But I promise the next one will be longer and better. **

**Please R&R, Reviews are much appreciated. They let me know if I should continue or not! **

**Thanks, guys! (:  
**

The boys gave Finn and Charlie a moment to talk this out.

"Oh God, oh god. I can't die. Not yet. We're getting married next month! We paid a hundred grand for that wedding, I can't-"

"Charlie, we've gotta do this. They'd most likely kill us anyway, and this way, this way they're giving us a chance."

"Your man's got a point," Peter smiled at Charlie.

Finn continued, moving his face close to hers. "Forget all the shit I said earlier. Char, I love you like crazy and I won't let these bastards harm you in anyway." He kissed her forehead.

"Okay, we'll play." Charlie sniffed. "But you have to play fair. No funny stuff."

"Fair enough," Paul nodded at Peter. "Untie them so we can get started."

Peter obliged and Charlie and Finn clutched each other's hands. They didn't dare move without being asked.

Paul twirled the bat in his gloved hands and smiled, "Let the games begin."


	4. I Think I Smell a Rat

**As usual, feedback of ANY kind is much appreciated! Enjoy!**

"So let's get started then," Paul clapped his hands together. "What should we start off with, Tubby?"

Peter mumbled, "I dunno. I'm hungry , Paul. I haven't eaten since yesterday."

Paul slapped him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. "Would you quit being rude, you fat ass? All you want to do is eat, eat, eat." He looked at Charlie and Finn whose faces were covered in blank expressions. "I'm terribly sorry about him, he has a problem with eating. He uses it as a cope mechanism. You see, he and his sister, they fuck," Paul mock whispered.

Peter's face turned a bright red, "We do not! Would you quit being such an asshole?" His voice was shaky like he was on the verge of tears.

Charlie and Finn looked at each other, feeling awkward in this obviously personal situation.

"Aw, poor baby's gonna cry," Paul mock pouted.

"Would you just shut up?" Peter screamed, a tear rolling down his slightly chubby cheeks. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Paul was silent.

"C-could you make me a sandwich?" Peter asked Charlie quietly. "Please?"

She nodded and slowly rose from the couch. He took her spot as she went in the kitchen. She hadn't realized how sweaty she was. Her shirt was drenched. In any other scenario she would have been disgusted but given the situation, it was the least of her worries. She tied her greasy red hair back into a bun and got out supplies to make Paul a sandwich. The knife she had grabbed was the biggest one they owned. She ran her thumb against the edge of the blade, blood trickling onto the ham of his sandwich. She smiled sadly and placed a slice of bread on top of the blood. She cleaned up the supplies and tucked the knife into the back of her jeans.

"You almost done?" Peter hollered from the den.

"Yes, just a minute," She called back, her voice slightly cracking.

She was about to serve the sandwich when she remembered something. Charlie reached under the sink and grabbed a small black bottle. She poured a glass of lemonade and squirted a couple of drops from the bottle into the glass. She felt a pain of guilt, this kid didn't deserve it. Now the other one, he was the jackass. But if she wanted to survive, she would have to play dirty.

"What's taking you so long?" Paul was leaning against the doorframe.

Shit. She held the bottle behind her back. "Nothing, I just wanted the sandwich to be perfect. That's all."

"What have you got behind your back?" He asked suspiciously.

"N-nothing. It's nothing. Really." She took a step backwards.

"If it's nothing then why can't I see it?" He took a step towards her.

"Be-because you can't, you just can't." Charlie took another step backwards.

Suddenly he was inches away from her. He placed a gloved hand on her cheek. "Listen, you're beautiful. Your lover boy's a lucky bitch. I wouldn't want to have to hurt you."

She let him touch her. She swallowed, "But isn't the whole point of this 'game' to kill me?"

"I won't let anything happen to you as long as you do as I say. You hear me?" He whispered in her ear, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

Charlie nodded, biting her tongue. She would do anything to survive, it's part of human nature to be selfish when a situation's life or death.

"Now I want you to give me what's behind your back, okay?" Paul took his hand off her face and opened it towards her.

She slowly brought the bottle out from behind her back, hands shaking. She gently placed it in his hand.

He looked at the label on the bottle, "Rat poison."

**Cliffhanger, right? Kind of, sort of. Even I, the writer have no idea what's gonna happen next. This story seems to write itself. I hope to update soon! Again, reviews are SUPER DUPER appreciated! You guys rock!**


	5. You're No Good

**It has been way too long, but hey, at least I'm updating. School has kept me busy. **

**The last time I checked I don't own Michael Pitt. (Sadly) Or anything Funny Games related, for that matter. Be a doll and review, reviews=happy me, happy me=more chapters for you! (:**

"I-I-I can explain," Charlie was horrified. Shit shit shit. 

"Ah, ah, ah, I know exactly what you 're up to," Paul pointed a finger at her, accusingly. 

"You do?" She gulped.

"Yeah," He touched her face again. "You were trying to poison Tubby so you could get me all to yourself." 

What! 

Well there was nothing she could think to do besides play pretend like she did back in grade school. So she lied. "Shit. You caught me red-handed."

She thought he might kiss her, but instead he punched her square across the face. "You whore. And while lover boy is in the other room. Sick." 

Charlie's face stung like hell. He hit hard. 

Paul gripped her arm hard and continued, "Now why don't we get back in there so you can play hostess, give Tubby his food, and we can get a move on on our games. Okay?" 

She nodded, the taste of blood filling up her mouth. She grabbed Peter's sandwich plate and started to head back to the den when Paul turned her back towards him. "But wait. Don't give that food to Tubby, give it to what's-his-face," He snapped his fingers, "Finn, lover boy. I trust you, Charlie. But if you give it to Tubby, I swear to God-"

"I got it," Charlie swallowed something that was either blood, or tears. She couldn't tell which. "I'll give it to Finn."

"Good," Paul patted her on the shoulder and shoved her towards the den. "Now go be a good housewife." 

Finn was sitting next to Peter on the sofa. Finn's giant brown eyes looked so hopeful once Charlie entered the room. She couldn't do this. She couldn't kill Finn.

"Oh, is that my food?" Peter jumped off the couch and grabbed the plate from Charlie's shaking hands. 

"Tubby, no!" Paul tried to stop him but it was too late, Peter downed the whole sandwich in just three bites.

**Don't worry, this won't be the last of Peter. He's much too fun to write about. ****J**


	6. Too Close for Comfort

**Like always, nothing Funny Games related is mine, was mine, or ever will be mine. But it's nice to dream. **

**Warning: More graphic than the last chapters, so read at your own risk. Don't like, don't read. **

**Extra Warning: This chapter is definitely not my best work. So please excuse any grammar oddities and spelling errors and general shitty quality. **

**As always, reviews are much loved. (:**

The moments after Peter inhaled that sandwich were a blur to Charlie. Paul dove on top of Peter, doing the Heimlich Maneuver to get the sandwich out of him. Finn's face was pale as he looked at Charlie for what to do next. And Charlie, she had no idea what to do. She wanted to take off running, but her feet were planted to the ground like she was a statue.

_Damn it, Char! Run!_ One part of her willed the other. But she was tuned out. She watched as Peter spat out the remains of a sandwich finally. Paul sighed in relief.

"What…the…hell?" Peter was still in shock from this whole incident. Poor guy.

Paul pointed at Charlie, "The bitch tried to poison you! Right after I told her not to. Tsk, tsk." He shook his head.

"I-I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! " She cried.

"Enough with the apologies. Let's just let the games begin for the love of God. It's almost eleven. Jesus," Paul shook his head.

Charlie sat back down next to Finn and he squeezed her hand.

"It'll be okay," He whispered in her ear.

"Now, for our first game, I'm going to need you, Charlie," Paul offered her his hand.

She reluctantly grabbed his gloved fingers as he pulled her off the couch.

"Tubby, go get a tie or kerchief or something we can use as a blindfold, and some more duct tape," He snapped at Peter.

They stood there while Peter ran upstairs and back downstairs in record time. He handed Paul one of Finn's ties. Peter duct taped Finn's arms and legs together once again, but left his mouth free while Paul tied the tie over Charlie's eyes. She was starting to get worried. It was completely dark.

"This game is called 'In the Dark," Paul explained. "Let's see what it takes for loverboy over here to speak up."

"What the-"Charlie started to argue, but a _whack! _of the bat in her stomach made her groan in pain.

"Ah, ah, ah, no talking from you," Paul warned. "Just to be safe, let's tape you shut. Tubby, tape!" Peter tossed the tape roll to him, Finn watching silently all the while.

Charlie felt her mouth being taped up. She hated literally being in the dark with her surroundings and the surrounding actions.

"Ready, set, begin!" Peter giggled.

Charlie was thrust on the couch, while she felt a hand going up her leg, under her skirt. Not Finn's hand, a gloved hand. Another hand undid her zipper. She didn't like this. Not at all. She felt her skirt being pulled down around her legs. She flailed her arms out, panicked. A cold hand quickly grabbed them and tied them behind her back, like they were prepared for her apprehension. Her blouse was being unbuttoned now. Someone was kissing her chest. They didn't kiss like Finn. These kisses were aggressive, almost violent. Oh God, Finn. He was watching all of this. He didn't say anything. She willed him silently to say something.

The kisses were gradually getting lower, now they were on her stomach. Now her belly button. Now below her belly button. _Jesus Finn, say something! _He couldn't hear her, obviously. She prayed that they wouldn't do what she thought they were going to do. Too late, she felt her underwear slide down gently and she started to scream underneath the tape.

Finn also had lost it, "GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER!"

The hands left her body. Her naked body. She was ashamed. She still couldn't see and all Charlie wanted to do was just be left alone. She sat herself up and felt the tie being untied. Finn's face was red, Paul looked embarrassed and Peter was holding onto her tightly as to make sure she wouldn't try and escape.

Charlie hadn't noticed that hot tears were rolling down her cheeks. Paul got himself together and grabbed the bat. "Loverboy spoke up, so it's time for you to pay the consequences. You little slut."

She threw herself at him, punching him in the nose and knocking him over. Peter kicked her in the stomach and helped Paul up. His nose was bleeding. He grinned and wiped it with his white glove. "Tubby, take her tape off."

Peter obeyed and Charlie took long gasping breaths, hysterical from this whole experience. Paul swung the bat hard and sent Charlie back flying another foot, so now she was against the wall. Finn leapt to help her, but Peter cracked him in the head with a baseball bat with a _THUNK! _

"_You assholes!" Charlie bawled, "You assholes!" _

_Finn wasn't moving. Charlie crawled over to him, he was surrounded by a small puddle of blood around his head. She checked his pulse. Nothing. She looked up at Peter and Paul who stood with smiles on their faces._

"_You killed him," She wiped a tear from her cheek. "Finn's dead."_

"_Obviously," Peter chuckled. He looked at Paul, "One down, one to go."_

_Paul nodded, watching Charlie, who was now in the fetal position rocking back and forth. He kneeled down so he was eye to eye with her. "I really don't see why you're so upset. He didn't seem so special to me."_

_She glared at him, "You don't understand! He's the only person I've ever loved, and you killed him! He's dead!" Charlie spat. _

"_You're beautiful You could have anyone you wanted, like me," Paul added softly with a half smile. He felt something he hadn't in ages, guilt. _

"_Don't you see! I was pregnant! We were going to start a family. We were engaged. And you took that away," She sobbed._

"_I-I-" _

"_Fuck off! Please, just fuck off!" _

_Those six words, six simple words, broke Paul's heart. _


	7. Unexpected

**A/N: Holy shit, it's been forever. I apologize, guys. And I really appreciate everyone who actually has stuck around to read more of my crappy writing. **

**Warning: Changing the rating to M to be safe. Don't like, don't read. **

Paul swallowed; a mixture of saliva and sorrow. He knelt down to Charlie's level, cupping her face in the palms of his hands. Peter stood to the side as always, twirling the baseball bat and observing.

"Now do you want to continue or not?" Paul asked Charlie softly, like a lover, not an attacker.

Her eyes were daggers as she spit onto his face. "Fuck you."

He slapped her, it didn't sting this time. "I don't want to fuck up your beautiful face anymore, but if you keep being rude, you're not going to be recognizable." He offered her a hand, "Now why don't you get up? We've still got some time left. And we've only just begun."

She reluctantly grabbed his hand as he pulled her up, "That-a girl. Now Tubby, choose a game."

Peter leaned down and put his chin on the end of the bat, "How 'bout Simon Says?"

"Wonderful idea, Peter," Paul gave his protégé a hearty slap on the back. "But we don't just play it the regular way, do we, Tom?"

"Nope."

"That's right. Charlotte, in our version of Simon Says, if you don't do what Simon says, we're going to have to hurt you. And we wouldn't want to do that, would we, Peter?"

With a puzzled look on his face, Peter spoke, "But we're here to kill her, Paul. Isn't it the point to hurt her?"

"Y'know, why don't I just do the rest of the talking and you just go eat or something? That is what you do best."

Peter grunted and headed back into kitchen.

"Alright, let's begin. That okay with you?" Paul questioned Charlie.

"Why can't you just kill me? Wouldn't that just be easier for all of us?" Charlie wiped blood and sweat from her brow. She was still naked, everything off except for her bra. She felt horrible, like a whore.

"It would be easier, but it wouldn't be as fun." He smiled at her. "Now let's play….Simon says…..touch yourself."

Her head bolted up, making her neck snap painfully, "What?"

He nodded his head at her, "You heard me, Simon says to touch yourself, masturbate."

"No." Charlie said, suddenly covering up her body protectively.

"Ooh, someone's feisty." Paul chuckled. "You didn't do what Simon said, you know what that means." He pulled out a knife from his back pocket, the same one she had put in her back pocket not an hour before. She hadn't even noticed it was gone.

The knife shined brilliantly, she could see her own cowering reflection in it.

Paul brought it down slowly until she squealed, "No! Don't! Okay, I'll do it."

Startled, Paul caught himself, he smiled, gesturing for her to begin.

Tears glittering in her eyes, she touched herself, uncomfortable. She cried and moaned until she finished. "Happy?" She looked up at him.

Surprisingly, Paul didn't have his hand down his own pants. He actually looked sort of terrified. But he snapped out of it quickly, "Simon says...show me your breasts." He held the knife firmly in his hand.

Whimpering, she removed her bra. The tears let loose as her bra and the knife simultaneously feel to the ground.

Paul approached her and cupped her face once more, "Simon says kiss me."

Their lips met softly, but ferociously. His tongue slipped inside of her mouth and she surprisingly let out a moan of satisfaction, disgusted with herself for kissing him.

The sound of glass shattering made them pull apart. The remains of an orange and one of her good plates splattered on the ground. Peter stood at the doorway, disgusted. "What the fuck is going on?"


	8. Foul Play

**A/N: I do not own Funny Games. Sorry that it's been a while since my last update. I've had a bit of the writer's block. This installment is especially shitty (at least to me), but hopefully someone will enjoy it anyway. **

Paul threw Charlie off of him, sending her to the ground with a _THUD!_ He looked at Peter, sweaty and uneasy, "It's not what it looks like, Peter."

"What the fuck **is** it then, _Paul?_" He spat out the last word, harshly.

Charlie could tell that even Paul, sick, heartless Paul was frightened. "She-she was trying to escape!" Paul looked at Charlie, nervously, silently willing her to go with it. "So I stopped her."

"By sticking your tongue down her throat?" Peter shot them a look that could kill.

Paul placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, calmingly. "Now, Tubby, why don't you calm down, we don't want to make a scene in front of Charlie-"

Peter smacked him away, "Why are you fucking obsessed with that slut? There have been others, but **none **of them have been like her. I see how you look at her, how you speak to her, I'm not an idiot," He spoke as though Charlie wasn't in the room.

Paul sighed, "Peter, stop it."

Out of nowhere, the chubbier boy whipped out a hand gun from the back pocket of his trousers and held it against Paul's temple. "I told you to stop calling me that. That's not my name," His hand shook. "Paul isn't his name, either," He spat in Charlie's direction.

Charlie stood there unsure of what to do, whether to take a chance and run or (God forbid her) help Paul.

Paul laughed nervously, "Enough with this bullshit, Peter. It's embarrassing. "

Peter pressed the gun deeper into Paul's skin, "I'm sick of being your second fiddle, I never get a fucking say in anything. So now it's going to be my turn to choose the game."

Paul looked relieved, "See, we're all fine now. Now remove the gun from-"

"No, this one's different. You're going to be a part of it," He lowered the gun; a smile so wicked planted on his face.

Paul's face fell.

"This one is called 'Paul the Whore'. It's like Simon Says, but you should be really good at this one, Jerry. All you have to do is fuck the girl," He grabbed Charlie's arm tightly, shoving her at Paul.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no," Paul backed away, shaking his head. "That's not appropriate, Tubby. Or safe, who knows what kind of diseases the whore could have."

Charlie was furious, but she couldn't do anything.

"Would you just quit the fucking bullshit!" Peter stamped his foot hard on the wooden floor, shutting Paul up. "It's fucking obvious that you've wanted to be inside of her since the moment we walked in the door. Now's your chance," He waved the gun, and Paul meekly stepped forward. "Now, you guys just will have to do as I say and nobody will be harmed, is that clear?"

Paul glanced at Charlie and she shot him daggers with her eyes as they both nodded.

"M'kay. Take off your clothes," He pointed the gun at Paul. Charlie of course was still naked and had been for what had seemed like ages.

Paul reluctantly removed his white golf shirt, revealing a surprisingly flat stomach. He removed his gloves, finger by finger and folded them neatly, placing them on the arm of the sofa.

"Don't forget your pants!" Peter chimed in.

Paul rolled his eyes and slid his pants off, shortly followed by his Hanes. Charlie thought to herself how beautiful he was, and how vulnerable he seemed. He was nothing more than skin and bones, just like she was, and this somehow made him seem less frightening.

"Oh, hard already," Peter pointed out, making Paul's face turn as red as a tomato. "Just like a real whore."

Without Peter directing him, Paul approached Charlie, grabbed both sides of her face, and joined their lips together. Charlie was used to his taste now; it was almost as familiar as Finn's by this point.

Peter smirked, "Way to take charge, Butthead," He took a seat on the sofa, and propped his feet on the coffee table with his hands behind his head. "Charlie, why don't you blow him?"

Charlie shook as she got down on her knees, Peter playing with the gun like he was a little kid. She took the length of Paul in her mouth; she hated the taste of his cock. It was nothing like the bitter sweetness of his lips. He dug his fingernails into her ginger hair as she did what she was told. Like a good little slut. She noticed at one point that Peter still had one hand on the gun, but the other one on a different type of shaft.

Charlie had to choke back tears as Paul came, hot in her mouth. Peter came shortly thereafter. Once he got everything back in to his pants, Peter told her to swallow.

She closed her eyes tight and gulped Paul's seed down her throat. It slid down her throat like a child on a slide. Paul look disheveled and she was sure she did too.

"That was just the appetizer," Peter's creepy grin came back. "Time for the main course."

Charlie didn't think she could handle anymore. She felt awful for herself and shockingly for Paul too.

"Wait, wait," Paul put up a hand and started walking over to Peter. He stood behind the couch, a hand on Peter's shoulder. "How about I do to you what Charlie just did to me?" Paul spoke softly, but loud enough for Charlie to hear as she sat on the floor, trying to cover herself with her clothes like a blanket.

Peter's eyes went wide, "Y-you would do that for me? I thought that you said that it would never happen again. " The gun slipped out of his hand, but he didn't seem to notice.

Paul put his arm around Peter, embracing him and simultaneously grabbing the gun. "I've been wanting to for a long time."

Peter started pulling himself out of his pants again when Paul quickly placed the gun to the back of Peter's head and pulled the trigger.

With a bang, Peter fell forward, off of the couch, hitting his head on the coffee table. The blood spread everywhere, over the wood and onto the floor.

Charlie couldn't help but think that her living room was now damaged, but put that to the back of her head. "You killed Peter. Why?"

Paul ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, "It had to be done."


	9. The End

**I don't, nor have I ever owned Funny Games. **

Charlie finally found this the appropriate moment to put her clothes back on. As she pulled down her dress, she heard soft sobs coming from Paul.

"He-he was my best friend," He knelt down in the pool of blood, stroking what was left of Peter's face. "But the fucker was insane. I am so sorry," He kissed Peter's cheek lightly.

"So are you going to kill me or what?" Charlie asked point blank. "Because I'm ready to die."

Paul looked up, "I can't kill you now," He sniffed.

"Why the fuck not? It would be so much easier for the both of us."

"I can't do this alone. I killed Peter, so now you have to take his place, that's the way this works. But I guess if you don't want to, I could kill you," He got up off of the ground and held Charlie's head in his hands. Ever so softly, he lay his chin on her forehead and kissed her. "What's it going to be?"

She let him kiss her. She grabbed one of his hands and held it tightly, "I'll do it. I'll go with you."

They'd been on the road a week, staying in cheap motels and making love at night. He'd made her dye her hair, her ginger tresses were now nearly the same shade of blonde as his.

If you had told her two weeks ago that Finn would be dead and that she'd be planning killing sprees with a strange blonde boy, Charlie would have told you that you were crazy. But this was her life now.

They settled on a tinier neighborhood in the Hamptons. The homes were at least a half mile down the beach from each other. They sat in Finn's old pickup and looked at the house that Paul had suggested. She grabbed a knife and gun from the backseat and stuffed them in her purse. Paul looked at her, "Are you ready?"

She nodded and he watched her as she got out of the truck and straightened her white dress out. Confidently, she walked up the cobblestone walkway like she was a model on the runway and rang the doorbell.

A middle aged balding man answered.

With a smile on her face, Charlie held on to her purse tightly, "Hello, I'm Mary. I just moved in a couple of houses down and I was wondering if I could borrow some eggs."

**FIN.**


End file.
